Chapter 365 - All He Could See Was a Point

This was another reason Encrid had come to the capital.

"If I go, I'll get to fight the knight order, won't I?"

The threat of monsters and demonic beasts had advanced more than cooking and construction. It had also drawn powerful fighters within the city walls, a necessity for survival and defense alike. And the greatest of all those gathered fighters were knights. The capital's knight order was the very symbol of martial might.

Where had classifications such as city-level, nation-level, and continent-level originated? Where had the term "proto-knight level" come from? The knight order had been the yardstick for them all.

Here stood one of its members.

The marquis had investigated Encrid and gained a fair idea of his tastes. What did this man value more than Krona, women, status, or power? Dig into a man's past, learn the road he had traveled and what drove him, and you could understand him. That was what the marquis had done.

"He told me to say I was a gift. What's that supposed to mean?"

Aesia spoke as she entered the mansion grounds. Encrid could almost see the marquis smiling behind her. She stood at one side of the training grounds, wearing light gear with a sword at her waist.

'Sly old snake.'

Hadn't Andrew called him a man who had swallowed dozens of cunning snakes and acquired a Hydra's innards? The description fit perfectly. A man whose thoughts were impossible to read.

Was he on the Queen's side, Krang's, Count Molsen's, or that fellow Viscount Mernes's? Or would he establish a new faction? No one knew. He simply remained in the capital as the Marquis of Fertile Lands.

A great noble whose underlying strength could never be dismissed, whom even the Queen could not treat lightly. With no grand duke or holder of a dukedom currently in the kingdom, he shared the nation's power with Marquis Vaisar.

Would such a man side with Krang? The emergence of a grand duke where there had been none would affect his own power. Encrid had heard that this was why Marquis Vaisar did not welcome Krang either. Marcus had told him so himself.

Yet despite Encrid being plainly on Krang's side, the marquis had visited him in person, spoken with him, and asked him to take care of a matter. There was no knowing what the man thought or what he might do.

Well, leaving all that aside for now.

"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Encrid was delighted. Here stood someone he had wanted to meet, someone he had hoped to coax into a spar.

"No need to be so formal."

Aesia nodded as she spoke. She looked the same as before, with her gentle face and short hair. Brushing back her orange hair with one hand, she stared at Encrid.

It was astonishing. Absurd. As far as she was concerned, this made no sense. The very fact that he stood before her was a marvel.

At Marcus's request, she had given him something of a test back in Border Guard. She vividly remembered this fellow Encrid fainting under her intimidation.

'Luagarne did say he was different.'

But Aesia trusted her own instincts more. It was only natural to trust personal experience over another's words, all the more so for someone aspiring to knighthood, who had to invest conviction in the path she walked.

In her judgment, Encrid's talent would have made reaching the level of a squire an achievement. No, even that was an exceedingly generous assessment. When she had seen him, she had judged that he could improve no further.

Yet here he stood, with all manner of great deeds to his name, meeting her eyes without flinching.

'How did you do it?'

What had he done to accomplish such feats? Something akin to competitive desire welled up in her. She wanted to gauge his ability. She had come here on business, but the moment she saw him, she knew.

She had not joined the knight order and become a proto knight for nothing. Without an obsession with wielding a sword or another suitable weapon, with martial arts, combat, and fighting, becoming a proto knight was difficult. Talent had to be joined by desire.

Seeing the look in Aesia's eyes, Encrid stopped what he was doing and faced her.

"Do that again."

She had told him to drop the formalities, so he had. Refreshingly straightforward. Aesia liked that.

"What?" she asked.

"Intimidation."

"You'll be foaming at the mouth."

"Do it."

This time, she sensed nothing behind him, either. The last time she had used intimidation, those retainers or subordinates of his had gathered to glare at her. Andrew Gardner did not even register. The men under Encrid whom she had seen before concerned her, but they were nowhere in sight.

Aesia unleashed her intimidation. She pivoted into a side-on stance and made a show of placing her hand on her sword's grip. Intimidation was a technique that used willpower to break an opponent's determination.

'Kneel. Or die.'

Encrid felt the killing intent within her intimidation. An illusory blade flew at him. He knew it was not real. The Encrid who closed his eyes at the sight of a sword was gone, as was the Encrid who crumpled beneath intimidation.

His Will of refusal rose and pushed it away. Encrid took a step toward Aesia.

Her pupils widened. She had heard the rumors, but only now, seeing it herself, did she accept them. He was the real thing. Luagarne had been right. Her own judgment, grounded in experience, had failed her. Rather than forcing his body to endure it as before, he had countered with Will.

"Spar?" Encrid asked.

"Gladly!" Aesia exclaimed.

SHING!

She drew the thin, straight rapier at her waist. Holding it upright before her face, she spoke.

"You don't think intimidation is my only specialty, do you?"

"You'd better give it your best, unless losing is your hobby."

Encrid's reply was a calculated provocation. Aesia smiled sweetly, as though saying she would have to teach this bastard some manners. He found the change in her expression quite satisfying.

While she drew and raised her sword, Encrid adjusted his sword belt, bringing the grip in closer for the draw. At the same time, he shifted his left foot and let his arms hang naturally. His preparations just before a fight.

Sparring the moment she arrived. Their business and everything else could wait. None of that mattered.

Aesia took it seriously from the outset. There was no need for halfhearted probing. Both were proto knights, possessing strength worthy of the title. The way he had overcome her intimidation was proof enough.

"I don't know how many kinds of Will you use, but you can look forward to this. It'll be fun."

As she spoke, Aesia lowered her upright sword to point at him. Encrid instinctively gauged the distance. Five paces. Yet with her drawn sword aimed straight at him, its tip seemed to hover just before his nose.

He stepped sideways, moving to put the sun at his back. Aesia did not step after him. She pivoted on her left foot, turning to track him with her sword point. It still obstructed his view.

At first Encrid looked at Aesia as a whole. Then his gaze settled on her shoulders. Concentrate on a Single Point activated of its own accord.

She was a genuine proto knight of a knight order. Just because he had withstood a knight's strike did not mean he thought he could overwhelm her.

He drew boldness from the heart of the beast, held his opponent in view with Concentrate on a Single Point, and sharpened his sensory arts in readiness. He was fully prepared to strike first at any moment.

But as he watched her shoulders, his field of vision began to narrow. From her entire body, it shrank to her shoulders and hand, then to the rapier and the hand gripping it.

Then all he could see was the rapier's blade. A little later, his gaze tightened and narrowed onto its tip. In the end, all he could see was a point. Yet that point was large enough to fill his entire view.

Intellectually, he understood. His opponent was merely holding a sword aimed at him. And yet.

'I can't judge the distance.'

It had clearly been five paces, but now that distance had vanished. He could see only the sword tip as a point. Nothing but that point remained.

There was no intimidation, no pressure. Naturally, his Will of refusal did not activate. He could simply see the sword tip.

Encrid could not even attempt to find an opening. What was he supposed to do when all he could see was a point? The harder he concentrated, the larger that point became.

'What are they doing?'

Watching from the side, Andrew was utterly baffled. Encrid had told her to do something, taken a step forward, then suddenly proposed a spar. Then she had drawn her sword and aimed it, and they had stopped. Encrid had taken a few steps, seemingly positioning himself and gauging the distance, but now both stood still.

'Aren't they going to fight?'

He had been eagerly anticipating a chance to watch a high-level spar, but quite some time had already passed.

'Should I say something?'

"Leave them alone."

Just as the thought occurred to him, Rem appeared behind him and draped an arm over his shoulders. Caught around the shoulders and neck, Andrew froze.

"One wrong move, and that blade will come flying at you."

Rem pulled him back as he spoke. Andrew meekly followed. Rem was not the only one who had come outside. Ragna, Jaxon, and Dunbachel had emerged too. All three focused on the center of the training grounds.

Sweat began to run down Encrid's forehead. Aesia was not entirely at ease either. His presence was fierce and wild, like a volcano that would erupt the moment she showed the slightest opening. Once it burst, she would struggle to maintain her advantage.

Leonesis had divided swordsmanship into the five branches of the Oniak Sword Technique, outlining their strengths and weaknesses as a cycle in which each countered another.

Righteous Sword was weak against illusion swordsmanship. Its straight, precise strokes sought to trap an opponent within the user's intentions, making it vulnerable to deception.

Illusion swordsmanship was weak against Heavy Sword. Because it relied on misleading and deceiving an opponent, it struggled against steadfastness. A steadfast, weighty strike was Heavy Sword's specialty.

Heavy Sword fell to Flowing Sword. Its very steadfastness made it susceptible to being carried off course by the flow.

Flowing Sword, in turn, struggled against Swift Sword. A strike that landed before it could be deflected left no chance to use a deflecting technique.

Finally, Swift Sword was vulnerable to Righteous Sword. Once confined within an opponent's predictions, speed lost half its power. Naturally, Righteous Sword could counter it.

The righteous sword fell to the deceptive sword.

The deceptive sword to the heavy sword.

The heavy sword to the Flowing Sword.

The Flowing Sword to the Swift Sword.

And the Swift Sword to the righteous sword once more.

Of course, using Swift Sword did not guarantee one could defeat Righteous Sword, nor was Righteous Sword certain to fall to illusion swordsmanship. Everything depended on the degree of training, so victories, defeats, and outcomes were never so predictable.

You could die even against an opponent far less skilled than yourself. It was an old maxim. A sword had no eyes. Anyone struck by a blind blade could die. Death was fair to everyone.

To escape that fairness, humans had sought to surpass their limits. That was Will. Willpower. And the culmination of that willpower was a knight.

Aesia's swordsmanship was illusion swordsmanship, a technique that turned an opponent's concentration against them to deliver a counter.

The instant Rem, Jaxon, and Ragna saw her technique, each thought of a way to break it. They were geniuses. It was only natural. Of course, against them, Aesia would introduce variations of her own. Only an actual bout would reveal how the fight would go.

Dunbachel could not decipher the technique at a glance, but she knew what she could do.

'Strike before she draws.'

Encrid had not understood Aesia's technique at a glance either. But he had a tower he had built and built, a road he had made by walking it over and over. It had become swordsmanship that was wholly his own.

What did it matter whether he saw a point or a line? If he could not break through, he would shatter it here.

The moment he decided time was not on his side, Encrid moved his hand.

SWISH!

The sound of his sword leaving its sheath was strange. He had drawn it so swiftly and straight, keeping friction to a minimum. It was the fruit of his relentless training.

The Will of the Instant. The sword he had drawn was Spark. It became a white streak of light and struck the point.

CLANG!

Metal rang against metal. The instant something touched her sword tip, Aesia released the coiled muscles of her entire body in an explosive burst.

WHOOSH!

Her sword flew back twice as fast as it had been knocked away and cut at Encrid's throat. Blood seemed about to gush out, but none did. He had barely dodged, throwing his head back.

Aesia stopped there. Any further, and this would become a fight to the death. Even this had been terribly vicious for their first spar, to the point that calling it a spar seemed questionable. Even within the knight order, a live-blade exchange like this would draw anger. Were you trying to kill me?

And yet.

"One more?"

Encrid's eyes shone. A faint smile spread over his face. He looked beside himself with delight.

Hadn't he just narrowly escaped death? And he was making that face? However reckless someone was, however willingly they had undertaken something they loved, a brush with death should leave at least a trace of negative emotion.

But Encrid showed not the tiniest speck of resentment, complaint, dissatisfaction, or any other negative feeling.

"Huh?"

Aesia had never experienced anything like this. She had never met this kind of person.

"If you're tired, we can rest a bit first."

Encrid's words drew reactions from behind him too.

"There he goes again."

"Another flare-up."

"Hmm."

Rem, Ragna, then Jaxon.

Dunbachel kept her mouth shut. She was not confident she could block the sword strike Aesia had just shown them. Its speed was not what frightened her. In sheer speed, Encrid's sword was more fearsome.

No, it was not the speed that had startled her. It was the way the strike stole her timing.

'It cuts off your breath.'

She knew because she had become absorbed in watching without realizing it. Aesia's sword slipped into the gap between breaths, leaving no chance to evade. In Encrid's place, her throat would have been cut.

Of course, with a sword aimed at her like that, she would not have fought as he had in the first place. She would have run away first, opened up the distance, and started again.

'Could I win that way?'

That would be difficult. Displeased by the thought, Dunbachel snorted.

"I think you're a little strange," Aesia finally told Encrid.

"You're smiling too," he replied.

He was right. Aesia, too, felt a rare thrill of enjoyment. She could not remember how many years it had been since she had enjoyed herself this much.

"Is there any breakfast? I came without eating," she said.

"Andrew?"

Encrid called to the master of the house. Andrew nodded. These people never missed a meal. The food was sure to be ready.